Memories Lost
by Meagan Snow
Summary: When Private turns up on Skipper and Kowalski's doorstep, he has no idea who he is. They take him in and care for him. They treat him like a brother. Or so they say. But who is Private? Can he find out? Will they let him find out? Inspired by TheDarkMaiden 27. HUMANIZED!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey!  
I've had this idea in my head for a while. It's been gnawing at me :)  
But recently, I was talking to TheDarkMaiden 27 and we were planning to do a little Christmas special.  
But I started writing, and I couldn't stop when I noticed that something else was coming out.  
Here's the result, see if you like it at all!**

_"MOM! DAD!" Private jumped cheerfully on his parents' bed with his sister, Corporal._

_"Honey, what the..." Their mother mumbled sleepily, sitting up._

_"IT'S CHRISTMAS! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" Private shouted, a big grin on his face._

_"Well, then." She laughed, grabbing the kids and restraining them._

_"Just you wait, I'm not going to let you open those presents, never ever! I'm the nasty Grinch who's come to take Christmas away."_

_The kids tried to wriggle out of her grasp. Corporal, who was by this time maybe twelve and believed she was just a bit too old for this (which didn't stop her from squealing and kicking along with Private, who was around ten), freed herself first and tried to sneak away to take a peek at Private's presents before he did._

_"Not today, sis!" The boy shouted, grabbing her mid-back-length brown ponytail, causing her glasses to slip off of her dark eyes._

_Corporal smirked, grabbing his arm and pressing on a special place to make him let go. "Stop me." She challenged, breaking into a run across the floor of their suburban home._

_Private cheered, freeing himself from his mom's grasp and chasing after his sister, his brown bangs flopping in his eyes._

_Then…_

_What then?_

* * *

Private opened his eyes, frustrated. It had been six months since Skipper and the others had found him half-dead on their doorstep.

His memory was gone. He remembered… he remembered his name… his title? He couldn't tell.  
His life came to him in short flashes.  
Like that one.

He placed his head in his hands, trying to remember any details.  
Corporal. He remembered his sister's name. Title. Either one. It was the single word that popped into his head whenever he tried to picture her.  
Her face… her face was out of focus. He could see her clothes. A green and blue jumper over a black shirt. Her glasses. Her ponytail.  
But not her face.  
Now that he thought about it, he didn't know what he looked like.  
It was like whenever he looked in the mirror, there was something blocking him from focusing on his face.  
Something blocking him from focusing on any face.  
Any face? He could see two faces. Kowalski, and Skipper. Two operatives. Like him.  
Except that he knew what they looked like.  
Them and nobody else. When he looked at someone, he saw a body. Hair. Clothes. But he couldn't see faces, expressions. Sometimes he would think he was crazy.  
He punched his pillow in aggravation. What was wrong with him?

He heard someone come in and saw an arm on his shoulder. It was Kowalski.  
Kowalski was a man in his late twenties, with blonde hair that looked like it had never been brushed and dark green eyes, wearing a long, white lab coat, and a mysterious streak of smoke on his cheek. Most likely from the last experiment that literally blew up in his face. He was very tall- Private estimated him to be six foot four, or so.

"How did you-" he started. His "quarters" (also known as bedroom) in the government institute where the scientist worked (and Private lived) was supposed to be under lock and key.  
But then again, this was Kowalski they were talking about. The genius who designed the entire security system.

It was him, actually, and Skipper (whose real name Private didn't know) who had managed to get Private a place to stay in the NYC Institute of Military Experiments, under the pretext that studying his memory loss would be beneficial for Kowalski's studies, as lead researcher in the NIME squad.  
NIME. Nime. The word told Private something more, but he didn't know what.  
Just another of the many things he was hiding from himself.

"I know how hard it is for you." He informed the boy. "Well… I don't, actually. But I've done some studies and I know how hard it's been for the lab rats to recollect…"

Private managed a small smile.  
"Thanks… I think." He could never be sure whether Kowalski was joking around or dead serious.

Kowalski smiled. Joke, then.  
Through these six months he had become something of a brother to Private and he appreciated it beyond measure.

"Skipper said he wanted to see you. Wouldn't tell me anything until I brought you." Kowalski raised his eyebrow meaningly. "I know him well enough to know he's found something."

Private snapped to alert. He dragged himself off the bed where he had been trying to remember anything.  
"D'you think…?" he started, suddenly short of breath.

"Very much so. Come on. And don't forget your uniform." He gestured to a barely-used military uniform handing on the door to the wardrobe.  
Technically, he was supposed to wear it at all times like the other "operatives," or, in his case, the base's only "junior operative."

Even Kowalski had on a pair of camo pants under his lab coat.  
"C'mon, Kowalski…" he groaned, mispronouncing it "K'walski" on purpose because he had come to know that that was one of the few things that annoyed him more than not being told something important.

"Skipper's orders." The older man raised an eyebrow, reaching toward the top of the simple wardrobe and throwing the outfit at him.

Still muttering under his breath, Private pulled it on. He didn't like it- it was rough, and rubbed against his skin, but even that couldn't stifle his growing excitement.  
As soon as he pulled it on, Kowalski motioned with his head for him to hurry. Private practically had to jog to keep up with his long steps as they hurried down the labyrinth of corridors and staircases, pausing every so often for Kowalski to "beep" them through a door.

Just when Private had just about lost every sense of where he was, Kowalski pushed open another door to reveal a small office, plain and Spartan. Private looked around. He had never been in Skipper's quarters before.  
"There you are." A voice greeted them. Private stood at attention and Kowalski followed suit, faced with none other than Skipper himself.

Skipper was a tall man, though not as tall as Kowalski, but well built. He had a black buzz cut and a military general's uniform and a stern, emotionless face, which didn't match his eyes.  
His eyes were always alive with emotion, and in the six months Private had known him, he realized that it was the only way to tell what he was thinking.

Private enjoyed being in here, with the two people he could fully see.  
It almost felt like being normal.  
If only, if only his memories weren't blank.

"Yes, sir! Reporting!" Kowalski said, a note of sarcasm in his voice. He and Skipper seemed to have known each other since New York was founded, and been best friends ever since. At least, that was what Private thought.  
"Well, soldier, here's the thing. We've discovered a trail that may lead us to finding out your true identity. I need you to get up to your Q, grab everything that belongs to you and clear out. Meet me here in ten minutes. Dismissed."

Excitement pulsing in his veins, Private jumped up and dashed back upstairs.

* * *

Kowalski feels sick at what is about to happen next.  
It always happens this way.  
Six months, then a false trail. Then it all starts over. A loop.  
A loop that makes him doubt whether he isn't worse than the terrorists they track.

"How many more times, Skipper?"he whispers, placing his head in his hands. "How many more times do I need to play the part?"

"I don't know. As much as it takes for you to finish your studies. You tell me."

"I can't… Every time, he remembers more. Every time, he comes closer to the truth. And it's killing him."

"You always wipe him again when it happens. It's part of the cycle."

"But he never knows… he never really knows. And I think that the wipes are getting less and less effective. And there are side effects."

"Unforeseen side effects?"

"Side effects I should have foreseen. I was so stupid… He's suffering. I see it. It's had a more profound effect on him than I could ever imagine. The first time, he couldn't remember his own face. Normal for amnesia victims. But now… it seems to have blocked something in his head. It's been getting worse. He can't see most faces. I'm not sure if he can see any.  
I… I just don't know how much more he can take. I don't know if I can keep playing the part, knowing it's my fault."

"You have to, soldier. It's not any easier for me. You just have to tell yourself it's one for many. One boy, one guinea pig, for all of humanity. ALL OF HUMANITY, CONDEMN IT!" Skipper's voice rises and he stops short, forgetting for a moment his office has soundproof walls.

"Then why is it so hard?" Kowalski whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, sorry this is so belated! I've been grounded. I know, I promised to get a lot done over the holidays, but… **

**ARGH! I'll do it YET! For now, I'll try to keep you with this!**

Private ran upstairs, vaguely remembering the way as if he had used it many a time before- but he had never been there before.

Not that he could remember.

He dashed into his room, tapping in the four-digit security code in a flash.

8-3-7-8. He really had to ask Kowalski to change it. He was always forgetting.

But not now.

He grabbed the messenger bag laid out on his bed and scanned the room.

Kowalski must have done that. It was nice of him to think.

It didn't occur to Private to wonder how it had gotten there. Kowalski couldn't have known what was going on.

He scanned the room for things he owned.

It was pretty generic even without packing.

No photographs (of whom? What was the use if he couldn't see the people on them?), no posters, practically no personal items.

He grabbed his toothbrush, sealed it into a plastic bag, and placed it into the messenger bag, along with a pair of regular jeans and a windbreaker.

That was all.

After a second's hesitation, he grabbed the "memory notebook" Kowalski had made him keep, to write down all the flashbacks.

It wasn't technically HIS. Oh, well.

He reached back into his memory as he opened it. All he could remember were scraps of conversation, single images.

The Christmas memory had been the longest and most vivid flashback he had had.

He turned to the page where he had drawn Corporal. Instead of drawing a face, he had left that part blank and instead drew a question mark over it.

_Who are you?_

_Who am I?_

Snapping back to reality, Private stuffed the notebook to the bottom of his bag and dashed downstairs, where Kowalski and Skipper were already waiting, along with another man Private didn't recognize.

"S-sorry I'm late!" He gasped, skidding to a stop.

"Actually, you're right on time." Skipper remarked. "Another thirty seconds and you WOULD have been late.

As it is, I am going to let Kowalski brief you on the mission."

Kowalski nodded and took over.

"This is Rico. He's going to accompany us on our mission."

Rico was a short, Latin American man with long, dark hair and clothes that resembled a walking weapons arsenal.

He had two machine guns strapped to his back, with a box of bullets at his belt.

Also at his belt were several sticks of dynamite, and he had a hunter's knife in the back of each shoe.

"Rico is our weapons man. He doesn't speak English."

"_Sí_." Rico affirmed.

"What we plan to do is to go topside and follow a lead Skipper has picked up on your past. We're going to investigate a certain person."

Kowalski pulled out a photo. Private strained to tell who was pictured on it but try as he might, he found himself unable to focus on it.

"Who is it?" He asked, a bit disappointed.

"Our lead. We need to figure out who it is.

If I'm correct, you haven't been topside since you appeared here. Is that correct?" Kowalski asked.

"Hmm? Ye-yeah." Private answered, still straining to make sense of the photo.

"I mean, no, I haven't."

"In that case, you are to accompany one of us at all time." Skipper directed.

"You are not to get separated from us in any case. Is that understood?"

At the same time, private vaguely noticed Kowalski repeat the orders to Rico in Spanish.

"Yes, sir!" Private stood at attention.

"Good. Let's move out, team!" Skipper ushered them into the elevator.

They came out into a small, rather empty pet supply store that Private had seen once before. It was the place the team had found him six months ago.

The only person present was a bored-looking cashier.

"Evenin', Marlene." Skipper greeted her.

"Hey, Skips!" She smiled back, sending Private a wink.

"Hey, Priv" she mouthed.

Private blinked. Was he supposed to recognize her? Did she know him? He longed to ask her these questions but was ushered out the door by Skipper and the words froze in his throat.

_"New York, New York, what a wonderful place!"_ he thought, glad to have remembered the words to that simple song. It. Was. Breathtaking.

The Concrete Jungle.

He suddenly realized they would have looked odd in full military outfit, and noticed that they had all changed out of them except him. He quickly unbuttoned the top to reveal a white tee and shoved it into his bag.

Kowalski was wearing a dark shirt over jeans, his lab coat still present but he looked more like a pharmacist than a scientist now.

Even Skipper was wearing casual clothes. Well. Casual was relative…

Rico had a security guard's uniform along with his weapons arsenal. Private hoped it would be enough to explain that.

He followed the rest of the team several steps behind, taking in the view. He still couldn't believe he was really there. New York.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his waking dream by the honking of a cab that sped at him. It happened so fast.

He didn't know what was happening. He saw a flash of yellow, and then nothing. The last thing he remembered was Kowalski shouting something angrily in a language he didn't recognize and then, he blacked out.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in a white room. A hospital room.

He tried to jump up but everything went dark for a bit and he fell back, blacking out again into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he next came to, the first thing he heard were whispers.

_"For real this time… Don't know the effects…"_

_"Do you think… remember…"_

He tried to focus on the words but the meaning slipped his muddled mind. He stirred and opened his eyes groggily. Instantly, the whispers stopped.

The first thing he noticed was a worried Kowalski, leaning over his bed.

"Hey." He smiled wearily. "You're awake."

"Mm." He tried to make his mouth work, but it wouldn't cooperate.

"Wh-wha happen?" He managed finally.

"You're fine. Now that you're awake. You've been in an accident."

He heard Kowalski's words, but they didn't seem to sink into his aching head.

"Accident…?"

"You're okay." Kowalski repeated. "You were unconscious for a while, but you're not seriously hurt."

Private stared at him, uncomprehending. Kowalski noticed this and smiled wearily.

"Go to sleep." He squeezed Private's hand reassuringly, and the latter felt himself start to drift off again, this time into a nightmare.

* * *

_Little Private screamed as the men stormed into his house. _

_Many. Too many. What seened to the ten-year-old boy to be thousands of uniformed men. _

_His mother paled, dropping the plate she had been holding. It smashed to the floor with a crash, but she paid it no heed as she nodded to Corporal and shouted, "GO!"_

_The girl silently clamped a hand over the boy's hand and dragged him downstairs. He had never before realized how strong his sister truly was as she dragged his protesting body along. _

_The tears blurred his eyes as he followed her to the basement and turned to frantically struggle with the bolt to the hidden exit door. _

_All the time, Private was too terrified to scream again as she frantically motioned for him to wait. Suddenly, the door slammed open and she threw herself in front of Private in an act of desperation. _

_"LEAVE HIM ALONE! HE'S ONLY A KID!" she screamed, grabbing his wrist. But it was futile._

_A pair of rough hands grabbed him and slung the hysterical boy over a shoulder. _

_"Lemme go! Cee! CEE!" He called for his sister but she didn't come to help him. Nobody did. He saw his sister, struggling frantically as two huge men overpowered her and he saw them place a napkin of some sort over her mouth and screamed even louder when he saw her slump against one of the men. _

_"CEE!" he sobbed, but then, the man who was holding him pressed something over his mouth and everything seemed to spin. He saw and heard chaos, shouting…_

Private woke up, gasping. He barely stopped himself from screaming as he looked around.

* * *

He was safe. Safe.

Kowalski's words echoed in his head.

_"You're okay." _

He drifted off into the dreamless sleep of mental exhaustion.

* * *

"How is he, Kowalski?" Skipper asks. He, Rico, and Kowalski are gathered inside of the former's office.

"Physically? He'll come to." The scientist tries to evade the question.

"You know what I mean."

"Skipper… I told you, I don't know. He hit his head pretty hard.

The memory cortex has been damaged, but not beyond repair. Best case scenario, Private got wiped a week early."

"And the worst?" Rico adds in a strong Hispanic accent. He had only been pretending not to know English. It is part of his act.

"He remembers everything." Kowalski says, after a short hesitation.

"What are the odds of that?"

"Seventy percent."

"What do you think?"

"I? I think we're out in the open now. We should tell him while we have the chance."

"Don't be ridiculous, soldier. Stay in character. That's an order."

For once, Skipper had actually ordered Kowalski to do something, and something inside him said not to argue.

"Yes, sir."

**Here it is! I hope is wasn't too boring. **

**This is my current brainchild and it's become a bit of an obsession XP If you need me, I'll be writing! (I hope) **


	3. Chapter 3

**All right, everyone :) Two chapters scheduled for today!**

**This one is a bit shorter and is more of a filler than anything, but I'll make up for it in 4 :D**

**Without further ado…**

When Private woke for the third time, he was in his own quarters. For a second, he wondered whether the accident and everything else had been a dream. Then, he realized he was wearing a hospital gown and had most likely been moved recently. He sat up and immediately fell back down due to a dizzy spell.

He tried again, more slowly this time. The nausea was still present, but bearable when he moved really slowly.

He noticed a jug of water on the side table. Water. He realized how thirsty he was.

He slowly slung one foot over the edge of the bed, then the other, and slowly slid into a sitting position.

Grabbing the bedpost for support, he managed to take a shaky step. Bracing himself, he let go of the post and took a step toward the table.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and Kowalski walked in. He only just managed to catch Private as his head spun and he lost his footing, helping him back into bed.

"You should have shouted! I would have helped you!" He chided Private, pouring him a glass of water.

He took it gratefully and downed it in a single gulp. "Thanks." He smiled weakly.

Kowalski returned the smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm… I'm fine. Dizzy." Private answered truthfully.

"That's normal. You were hit by a car. It's a miracle you're not seriously hurt."

Private nodded. "How- how did I get here?"

"Well, after you got hit, we took you to an emergency room. After they determined you weren't seriously hurt, we moved you to the NIME med unit. Last night, Skipper decided you were well enough to go back to your room."

They sat in silence for a bit. Kowalski poured Private another glass of water and made him drink it.

Suddenly, he asked. "Private… What do you remember?"

"Mm?" He asked, processing the question. "Why?"

"I'm afraid that the accident may have worsened your amnesia." Kowalski informed him.

Private thought for a moment.

"Not much." He said finally. "I remember you guys, and I remember you guys finding me. And… Kowalski, can I trust you?"

After a second's hesitation, he heard a hesitant "Yes."

"Well, you see, I had a dream last night. It was… I think it was real, you know." He recounted his dream, telling Kowalski everything, trusting in him to explain what had happened.

"What- what happened?" He asked, looking up at the older man.

He couldn't see his face as he answered him. "I don't know, Private. I don't know."

"Am I supposed to be in jail…?" He asked vaguely. It was the only thing that he could think of to explain his dream. "Am I a criminal?"

There was a moment of silence.

Finally, when Kowalski answered, his voice was surprisingly forceful.

"No, you're not. You are not a criminal, nor do you deserve to be in jail. There is nothing further from the truth. And don't let anyone tell you different. Not even me. I swear to you, on all the Muses, Graces, and God Almighty knows what else, that you are, if the only person in this condemned compound, innocent and free of blame." He stated angrily, looking Private in the eyes.

Private wasn't sure why Kowalski was suddenly so angry at him, but he noticed a startling glint in his eye. It was sadness.

"Now, forget everything we said today and never bring this up again."

"But-" Private tried to protest.

"Never!" Kowalski took a calming breath and continued in a kinder tone. "You are exhausted right now, I can tell. Go back to sleep, Private. You'll wake up stronger. I am going to hook you up to a nourishing IV, because you still spend the lion's share of your time asleep. And… don't trust the dreams. I'm on your side. Always."

It seemed to Private like he had to force himself to say those last words, but he couldn't be sure. Not of their meaning, not anything.

"Goodnight, Private." Kowalski smiled, squeezing Private's hand in his.

Was it Private's imagination… or did he feel a pinch, like a static discharge, when that happened?

He again couldn't be sure, this time because everything was turning murky in his head.

"G'night…" he managed, before settling into another dream. His last memory was Kowalski standing up and leaving the room, then the scene shifted…

* * *

"I told him he could trust me." Kowalski tells Skipper. The two of them are alone in his office, and speaking at ease.

"I told him I was on his side. You never told me that you raided his home."

"Tough times call for tough decisions. What was I supposed to do? Kidnap him?" Skipper shrugs, pretending to take it lightly.

"Don't you pull that on me. We've know each other for how long? You think I am going to fall for your tired soldier act?"

"Look, Kowalski. What were my options? I had direct orders from HQ to, I quote, 'retrieve at all costs.' You're my options man. You tell me."

"To begin with, not kidnap a pair of kids from their home, in order to… their parents. What did you do with their parents?" Kowalski is struck by sudden doubt.

"What I had to." Skipper avoids the question. "Enough of this! Now, give me a status on One."

"We haven't been able to locate her. I sent my best men after her I'm afraid… I'm afraid all we have left is Private- I mean, Codename Two. One is… out of commission."

"BLAST! One has been 'out of commission' ever since the incident. Is she dead?"

"Skipper, I…"

"Is. She. Alive. Or not."

"There is a chance… there is always a chance she is alive."

"In that case… make sure nothing happens to Two. What was the mistake with One?"

"I don't know exactly. I actually didn't take care of One myself, that was my major mistake. I assigned Marlene to her. From what she says, something went wrong with the machine and instead of wiping her, it restored all her memories. I don't know what happened. It must have been badly calibrated."

"Don't make that mistake with Two. Any signs, any more dreams… wipe him immediately. The right way.

Don't argue with me. I don't like it any more than you. But HQ sent me a direct yesterday, very clear.

If Two escapes, you're not getting any more test subjects. And they want results. Results in six months. Or people get hurt. You understand me?"

"All too well, Skipper." Kowalski cedes. "All too well."

**Who knows who One is? Who suspects? :D It'll be explained better in Ch. 4, and 5! **

**Chapter Four coming up**_!_

**EDIT: I fixed a little problem I had with separators in previous chapters :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is going to** be** long, but not boring, I hope! Let me know what you think, okay?**

_A ten-year-old Private was ushered down a long, dim hall. He. Was. Terrified. _

_He had no idea how much time it had been since they had taken him from his home. He hadn't seen any windows ever since they brought him in. _

_There were only unfriendly faces all around. Everywhere he looked, there was nobody to make a possible friend with. _

_Suddenly, he was ushered into a large, brightly lit white room. The guards then left the room, locking the door behind them. _

_He looked around, wide-eyed. The only other person in the room was a tall, blonde man, who had his back turned to Private. _

_He tried to be as quiet as possible, but the man quickly turned around to face him. _

_"Hello, there." He said, in a friendly tone- as a matter of fact, the first friendly voice Private had heard ever since he was taken here. _

_"You must be Private."_

_Private gave a hesitant nod, looking at the man with scared eyes. _

_Seeing this, the man smiled a bit, taking him and seating him on a large… well, it looked to Private like the bed in a doctor's office. _

_Private cringed at the contact as the man turned around to rummage around for something. He turned back to face Private, holding a purple stuffed unicorn out in his hands apologetically. "Do you… eh, want a toy? I'm sorry, I don't have any boys' things on hand… All I have is this… thing" _

_But Private seized the item and hugged it to his chest. _

_"It's a Lunacorn!" He exclaimed indignantly, holding it tightly. _

_"All right then, you can keep it, if you like."_

_Private nodded his head energetically. _

_"You can call me Kowalski. I'm here to help you out." the man extended a hand toward Private. _

* * *

Suddenly, the dream faded as quickly as it had began. Private woke up, staring into the ceiling.

He had known Kowalski when he was younger. Had he? The details were already slipping away, like water from cupped hands. The more he tried to retain them, the faster they slipped away.

"My name is Kowalski… and I'm here… here to…" he muttered out loud, trying to recall what he had said.

Suddenly, another phrase that Kowalski had said popped into his head. "_Don't trust the dreams." _

But that wasn't Kowalski talking. He didn't want to say that, did he?

"_Don't trust the dreams."_

_"I'm here to help you out."_

_"I'm on your side."_

The words spun around in his head, as another vision from his past came in.

"_I'm on your side…"_

* * *

"_Hey, Private!" Kowalski let himself into the kid's room. "Are you okay in there?"_

_"No. I wanna go home." Private crossed his arms. He had been pouting for the last half-hour, and had refused to even speak to the other people who had come to fetch him. _

_He realized he must have looked ridiculous, sitting cross-legged on the bed, crossing his arms (one of which still gripped his Lunacorn.) _

_"Come on, now, Private. You know I can't give you that." Kowalski shot him a regretful glance. _

_"No. I hate it here. I want my mum, and Cee, and my home! And you can't stop me!" Private sniffled, tears flowing into his eyes. _

_"Hey, you know I'm on your side, right? I really want to send you home, but I'm not in charge. I've been doing my best to make sure you're happy, right?"_

_He pulled Private into a comforting hug, letting him cry for a bit before pulling away to look him in the eyes. _

_"But we have to go, now." He stood up, grabbing Private's arm. _

_"We have to hurry!"_

_Private nodded, jumping up to follow the only person he could currently call his friend. In his childish heart, he trusted Kowalski entirely. _

* * *

The scene faded out slowly, even though Private strained to remember it.

_What is going on with my life?_

"_Don't trust the dreams. " _He heard Kowalski's voice in his head. "_I'm on your side. Don't you trust me?"_

Where did that last phrase come from? Private was at the verge of panic, but he swallowed it down. Somewhere deep, deep inside of him, the naïve child wanted to trust Kowalski. To believe him. Surely he was doing this for a reason. To protect him. _Or something. Or something. _

_"You trust me, don't you?" T_he phrase stirred another memory in his mind.

* * *

_Kowalski pulled little Private along the halls, straining to keep his pace and not to trip over his own feet. _

_"Where're we going, K'walski?" He asked, not being able to pronounce the name correctly due to his missing front tooth. _

_"You trust me, don't you?" Was the man's only answer. Private looked up to see his face, but it was hidden from view. _

_"Come on." _

_As they rounded the corner, Private found himself in the same white room where he had first met Kowalski. _

_The difference was that there was a strange contraption of some sort attached to the bed, where the pillow should have been. _

_"What's that, K'walski?" Private asked curiously. _

_Kowalski didn't answer once again. Instead, he again sat Private up on the bed and crouched down to his level. _

_"Now, Private, you're gonna have to trust me. You trust me, don't you?"_

_Private bobbed his head up and down, wondering where this conversation was going. _

_"Okay. I'm going to need you to lie down on this bed, okay? Place your head on this special little pillow and sleep for a bit."_

_"But… But I'm not tired, K'walski!" He protested. But Kowalski had timed this very well, as Private was rubbing his eye wearily and looked about ready for bedtime. _

_"Yes, you are. Now, you have to lie down, Private." He commanded, looking more like an impatient parent. _

_The look on his face convinced Private not to argue. _

_He slowly lay down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow-type thing at the head of the bed. _

_"Are you all comfortable?" Kowalski asked, watching from a bit of a distance. _

_"Y-yeah, I am…" Private yawned. _

_Suddenly, Kowalski's hand descended onto a hidden control switch and handcuffs popped out of the bed, pinning Private's arms, legs, and chest to the bed. _

_He struggled to get free, terror on his face. _

_"No! NO! Lemme out! K'walski! HELP ME!" He screamed, tears streaking his face as Kowalski fixed what looked like an odd sort of cap on his head. _

_"Calm down, Private. You'll be okay. It's just something you have to do every so often… because you have a condition. And this is like medicine."_

_"NO! LEMME OUT! I'M SCARED!" He pleaded, his childish heart breaking at this betrayal by his best friend. "STOP! K'WALSKI! PLEASE!" _

_Then, the machine activated. It was pain, pain like nothing Private could ever imagine. It seemed that every part of his body was on fire, at the same time. And it didn't stop. _

_He wasn't sure if he lost consciousness, but it lasted ages. Eons. What was really five minutes seemed like days. _

_And then…_

_Nothing. _

* * *

Private's eyes snapped open. The simple memory of the pain was enough to make him break out in sweat. It wasn't a one-time pain. He had experienced it so many time before…

Along with that memory came total recall. Thousands of colorful images, people, sounds. It was impossible for him to focus on anything because of the sheer amount of things streaming into his head.

_Kowalski_. Kowalski had betrayed him. He couldn't believe it. It felt like a physical slap in the face.

He jumped up and dashed for the door, the adrenaline enabling him to overcome his weakness after the accident.

Tears blurred his eyes and he just wanted to run, run until he could leave this past behind and forget.

He had wanted so very much to remember, but now all he wanted was to forget. Everything. To wake up, innocent again as he had been that very first day. Christmas Day.

_Oh, Lord. _Where was Corporal? Where was his mum? Were they okay?

Private just wanted to keep running, heedless of everything. Heedless of the crowd of people who had gathered, heedless of the men who had started to chase him.

Suddenly, terror threatened to freeze him in place. Oh, God. What if they wanted to wipe him again?

This new-found fear gave him wings. He was running blindly, now.

All he could do was pray he could somehow escape.

Perhaps it was a trick of fate, but Private suddenly found himself on a staircase leading upwards.

_Up means out._

He used the last of his strength to give himself a spurt of speed as he burst through a set of doors. Suddenly, he realized his feet were pounding linoleum. He made it!

He burst out the door, blinking in the harsh midday sun.

Some internal survival instinct guiding him, he dove into a darker alleyway and between some tall, concrete buildings that weren't skyscrapers but as close as it got.

He soon stopped to rest, nursing a stitch in his side. It was then that the exhaustion caught up with him. Not only was he recovering for a head injury, he hadn't had a bite to eat for days, and while Kowalski's IV did some good, he was still severely weak. His head spun and he resisted the impulse to black out.

_Not now, _he pleaded. _Not now_!

Suddenly, he felt a hand grip his arm and pull him along. He followed it down several different alleyways before he managed to recover his senses and protest.

"What…!" He managed, trying to free his wrist from its vice-like grip before the figure stopped and turned around to face him. With a sinking feeling, Private realized that even though his memory had been restored, he was still blurry on a few crucial details.

He still couldn't see faces.

"Do you want to get caught, idiot!" She growled, because it was obviously a "she." Several years older than Private, with long brown hair tied into a messy braid down her back, and wearing a ragged tee and torn jeans. Private noticed she was limping on one leg.

"What…!" He repeated, still too winded to get a full sentence out of himself. "Who… Why? Why?" He finally managed.

She stopped for a second, and he could practically feel her gaze, sharp and judging.

"Why? Because the enemy of my enemy is my ally." She said at last.

Suddenly, she seized him by the shirt and snapped: "Are you Two?"

"Two… what?" Private asked, confused.

"Never mind. I thought you were… someone I knew. Come on." She said, releasing him and continuing on her way.

"Wait! How can I trust you?" Private asked, coming forward to catch up.

"A, you already do if you're still following me. B, I just saved your backside from the government agency after you. C, I haven't turned you in yet. Enough for you?" She snapped, not looking at Private.

"Who are you?" He tried a different question.

"You can call me C." She answered curtly. "You might say I'm like you. Of course, then I'd probably kill you, then turn you in."

"…I'm-" he started to introduce himself but she cut him off.

"If you're not Two, it doesn't matter what they call you. I'm going to get you somewhere they can't find you, then you're on your own." All the while, she was leading them along back ways, cutting in between houses and behind yards.

"Wait up!" Private called after her. Now, he was truly exhausted, even though she hasn't even broken a sweat. His vision was blurring and the edges of his field of sight were already turning dark.

"What is it." She asked, turning around, then suddenly grabbed his arm to steady him as he fell.

"A seeker-sleeper!" She shouted in recognition. "They've knocked you out so they can track…"

Her voice was turning into a slur as everything around Private danced circles around him. His last thought was that he had lost count of all the times he had blacked out that day.

He vaguely remembered her steadying him upwards and guiding him somewhere, but by that point his dreams were mixed with reality and it seemed to him that the person guiding him was his sister, and that she was guiding him toward… _toward… _

* * *

Skipper slams his desk in aggravation. "What do you mean, Two has gotten away!"

"I… I don't know." Kowalski tries to evade the question but he knows it is no use with Skipper.

"What is that supposed to mean!" Skipper shouts again. "ANOTHER of your experiments has gotten out of hand, and you say you don't know what happened?! You had better tell me this is some sort of a sick joke!"

"I'm afraid not… Skipper, I saw it happen. He's not like One." Marlene speaks up from the corner. "One realized who she was after my mistake. She… she most likely got off with no side effects.

Two… I noticed, have you noticed? The way he looks at people, he won't look you in the eyes. He keeps his sight around your chest level. I think…

I think his mind is resisting the wipe. He just needed an occasion to set it off."

"Yeah? And who do you think you are to come up with some detailed opinion? A researcher demoted after she lost her first assignment?"

Kowalski notices that Skipper is in one of his moods right now.

He would usually try to smooth the situation over at this moment, but given that Skipper is mad at him more than anyone else, he decided not to call attention to himself.

But Marlene is perfectly capable of defending herself.

"A PhD, majoring in child psychology and minoring in bio-genetics, thank you very much. I think I am the only person in this room actually qualified to make observations on One and Two's progress. Furthermore, while I may not have been able to calibrate your whatsit-ma-jigger, you should have done that before I took One into the room. And even beyond that, I swear to God, Two must have been truly naïve to believe one word of what you said, because I wouldn't have if you blindfolded and drugged me!

For the future. You operate the machinery, but let me talk to the kids. You may not have noticed, but both Experiments One and Two have gone awry because of YOUR mistakes, because I operated the machinery and you talked to the kids.

And no disrespect, Skipper, but if you have anyone to shout at, it's yourself. You're the one directing this entire mission, and taking it out on him," she jabs her finger at Kowalski, "and me for making observations isn't going to get you anywhere."

Skipper stops. "I know, but regardless of this, Nigel will have my head for this. He's my main link to HQ, and it's his orders I have to follow. It was his idea, starting with One and Two in the first place, and he wants us to see it through.

I have to tread carefully, and so do you. If he finds out this is bust, imagine what he'll do to us. All of us."

"You know what? You're right. I hate to say this, and you're not hearing it again, but you're right." Marlene answers.

"Remember what happened to Manfredi and Johnson when they disobeyed orders? You're never lettin' us forget. We have only one option. Kowalski, will you do the honors?"

Kowalski pales. The answer is obvious. So obvious, all along. The only real option.

"We have to get both of them back. One and Two. Living…" his throat goes dry, and he can't continue.

"…Living or dead." Skipper says with a grim finality.

**What did you think? Who is C? What do you think?**

**And how much do Marlene and, by extension, Kowalski, actually know?**

**Just tap that magic review button!**

**I'd like tO take the occasion to also thank all my GORGEOUS guest reviewers, whom I can't thank in person! Thank you, Guest, Guest, Guest, and Rynn Wolfe!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, here is the long-awaited Chapter 5!**

Private's awakening was not a pleasant one. He was woken by a hard smack to the face.

For a second, the face of an irritated C slid into focus and his heart leaped, but it left as quickly as it came.

He felt tears spring to his eyes as he placed a hand to his cheek. "Wh-what was that for?!"

C shrugged. "I needed to get you awake, Nancy. Come on."

"Come on…?" Private asked, a bit confused. "Where are we going?"

"Well, where do you think?" She asked impatiently but Private just stared at her blankly.

"We can't spend two nights in one place, genius. Too easy to track."

A single word registered in Private's hearing. "We…?" He asked, looking up at her. "Are you going to help me after all?"

C sighed. "Some kind instinct won't let me just leave you, since you're obviously incapable of taking care of yourself… and since you seem to black out more in a day than the average person does in a lifetime."

"That's not fair!" Private protested. "You yourself said I had this sleeper-thingy! They knocked me out!"

"Fair. Sorry. But anyway, here. Put this on." Her demeanor was impatient as she tossed a worn-out military outfit much like his own (which was back at base), and a pair if shoes.

"You can't just parade the streets of New York in a hospital gown, can you?"

Private blushed at her remark and quickly pulled on the pants and boots, then took off the gown itself.

His sight fell on a bloodied bandage around his arm.

"What- what is that?!" He shouted, staring at the thing. "Did- did you-!" He stammered.

C sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I did. I saved your life, you're welcome, Nancy. I removed the seeker-sleeper implant from your arm, and hopefully, it will be harder for them to track us. Questions?"

"But-that's not-" he began to protest.

"Not fair? Well, glad you noticed that life _ain't_." C said sarcastically. "Get your shirt on, I assume you feel ridiculous, Nancy."

"Don't call me that!" Private protested at the nickname, pulling on the shirt and wincing as it touched his bandage. Suddenly, something struck him.

The comically stressed American accent she had placed on "ain't" made him realize… "You're a Brit!" He shouted suddenly.

"Used to be." C shrugged. "Don't worry your head about it. It's probably aching already from all your falls. Are you ready? Let's go. We have to move before the neighbors notice anything."

"The neighbors…?" Private asked, confused.

C sighed, exasperated. "Does it matter? We're in an empty flat in West Bronx, the neighbors have no idea we are staying here and neither does the landlord. Any questions?"

"Isn't that… illegal?"

"No, don't be silly! Of course it's legal, right on the same page of the rule book as kidnapping children and wiping their memories to experiment on them! But do you see anyone going after the unit? NO! So come on!" C looked furious both at Private and herself, for having revealed too much.

Her shoulders slumped as she adopted a friendlier expression.

"Just… follow me, okay? I'll take us somewhere we can stay a bit longer."

Private simply nodded, following her outside, through the back door, down the fire escape, and out into a back alley. Once they were outside, he tried to imitate her confident, yet cautious state of being. She didn't look at him, but at least she acknowledged his existence. That was a start.

Suddenly, she stopped and held her hand out to keep him behind her.

"Police van!" She hissed, pushing him backwards and setting off at a stealthy run. Private tried to follow her lead, but ended up making so much noise that he was surprised that nobody took him in for disturbing the peace. At least, that was what his heavy breathing and hard steps sounded like to him.

Suddenly, C seemed to disappear.

Private looked around to find her, and noticed her head sticking out from behind a passage that was so well-masked, nobody would have noticed it if they didn't know it was there.

As they ran for what seemed like forever to Private, she stopped and fumbled with a door.

What met Private's eyes was the most run-down ex-storage unit he had ever seen. "What-?" He asked, before C motioned for him to come inside.

"It's where I hide out, full time. So…" the smirk was apparent in her voice. "What do you think, Nancy?"

"Don't call me that!" Private protested for a second time, looking around the compartment. It was dark and dusty, but in one of the corners, a bunch of crates and some blankets formed a bed, and a couple of chairs around a table.

"Okay." C said, sitting down on a stray crate and motioning for him to do the same. She had already made her way across the entire compartment and flicked on a single lightbulb that bathed part of the room in a yellow light.

"I'm open to that. What SHOULD I call you?"

"Really?" Private said, disbelieving. "Just like that?"

The one-eighty her formerly hostile attitude had taken was astounding.

"Yeah. I've decided that if I'm stuck with you, I might at least make an effort to be civil. So, I'll repeat: what do you want me to call you?"

"Private." He replied, with a small smile.

"If you're not going to tell me, just say so!" She snapped, raising her arms in annoyed defeat.

"No… that's my name. My name is Private. At least, I think it is. I'm still just a bit fuzzy on the whole back-story thing…"

C gave him a hard look once again. "Private?" She repeated, then looked down.

"That's… that's your real name, isn't it?" She asked more quietly.

"Yes, yes it is. At least, I think so. That's what I remember everyone calling me, at least. Why?"

She shook her head. "Never… never mind. It's just that… Forget it. It's probably just a rank. Anyway, I bet you're hungry, aren't you?"

"Starving." Private affirmed, loath to drop the subject but already knowing better than to continue.

C gave a small laugh, pulling a pair of energy bars and some other non-spoiling food out of her backpack. Beef jerky, trail mix. And a pair of water bottles.

She tossed him his lot, and Private tore into it hungrily.

"For the food, there's plenty more where that came from, but water is heavy and I don't carry around a lot. I've got a stash in here that you're welcome to use, but you're helping me get more when I run low on supplies."

"Need I ask if you got them legally?"

"Nope." C answered, a thorn of bitterness seeping into her voice. "Where do you think a fugitive can get money?"

"You're a fugitive?" Private asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"We are." She corrected him, her voice lost in thought.

Private shrugged, but suddenly said: "I'll tell you my story if you'll tell me yours."

C was silent for a second, and Private briefly considered retracting his words. But she started up with a sigh. "I suppose that's fair enough, seeing as we're stuck with each other for now." She nodded, as if to herself, focused on something far away.

"Up until I was seven or eight, my life was completely normal, at least so I was led to believe. But one day, my mum took me, and gave me a very serious talk. Too serious for a normal kid my age. At first, even as a first grader, I found it ridiculous. She said that my uncle, and her brother, wanted to kidnap me and… my little brother. But it was true. To this day, I don't know how she knew…

And… really, that was where my childhood ended.

I took up martial arts, and self-defense… and anything, anything that might help us when the day came.

And when it came… that's the day I won't forget." Her voice sounded haunted. Haunted by ghosts of her past, by guilt unspoken of to anybody.

"Some five years later… four? I don't know, exactly. I was twelve at the time. They came for us. You know who I'm talking about. Retrieval.

And I failed that day. I heard him calling for my help, and I couldn't save him. I watched… I watched them take him away from me. And there was nothing I could do. They treated me with a paralyzing gas, but I was distracted and didn't see it until they force me to breathe it in.

Later, I was taken, and tested on.

I was lucky, I found an ally in a fairly new lab worker. I managed to get a steady trickle of information from her. She told me… he was dead. He had died, as the result of an experiment gone wrong. In that moment, my only focus was getting out of there. To avenge him. I know it sounds ridiculous, a single teen on a government organization…

But whatever. Anyway, they were testing some sort of memory drug on me. They thought they had covered all the angles. But I wrote down, anything I found out, anything she told me. I wrote on the underside of the bed, in pencil. In a place that I knew that I would think of again.

Pictures. Sentences. Triggers. Anything that would help me to piece together a whole.

And one day, it worked. It wasn't long ago, maybe six months. More or less. I saw a gap.

They were calibrating the whatsit that was supposed to apply the drug and I legged it. I still don't know how I made it. I think she covered for me.

I owe her my life right now, and I hate her for it."

Her voice wavered, and she trailed off for a minute or two, whole Private processed her story.

"That's why I asked you." She said suddenly. "Remember, when I had just saved your life? I asked you a question."

"Are you Two?" Private repeated, still slightly confused.

"Because for a second, I thought you were my brother. We were experiments codename Memory One and Two.

It was just that… you were about his age, and looked so much like I remembered. When I heard that you were British, I, idiot, took you for him.

I thought I could pretend, at least. Treat you like I did him." She buried her face in her hands, but straightened momentarily.

"Even now, your name is the same. For some reason, me and him… we were never given names, just ranks. At school, I went by 'Corrie' and everybody just thought it was short for Caroline." She half-smiled at the memory.

Private nodded, unsure what to say.

"But never mind. Let's hear your story." C changed the subject suddenly.

"Well… okay. Here goes. I don't really remember anything before I was in the compound yet. Just little flashes.

But I remember that they stormed my house, and after that…" Private recounted briefly the memories that he had.

"And that's about it."

C nodded slowly, thinking. "Do you know… do you know what your number was?"

Private shook his head. "No. They never told me that I had a number."

C nodded again, and didn't reply this time. Suddenly, she asked, in the same harsh tone of voice she had used when they had first met.

"Do you remember ANYTHING about your life before NIME? Anything at all."

"Vaguely." Private furrowed his brow. "I remember… Christmas morning. Once. I… think I had a sister, but can't be sure now. I can't remember my mum at all, hardly."

"Your sister. What was she like?"

"I… don't know. I can't see her face, in my head. But I know I called her 'Cee,' and that it was short for… Corporal! That's what it was short for!" He shouted, suddenly flooded with memories.

"She was two years older than me, and she… she had brown hair, which I think was kept in a ponytail. And… glasses! She wore glasses!" He called out, as the memories flowed into his head, fitting perfectly when they did.

"And she had a tattoo on her right shoulder! It was a… penguin, I think. A penguin and the crest, 'Never Swim Alone.'

All our family had them, and I would have gotten one, too, once I turned ten."

C cut him off with a small gesture. Not saying a word, she pulled up a sleeve to reveal a black tattoo of a penguin's head and, in tiny letters, "Nunquam solus natatē" and an identification number.

"It's not a family crest." She explained quietly. "It's the mark of our unit in the Special Services, like a dog tag, but not for the Institute. Where our mum used to serve, where you and me were going to. But… the Institute took all that away.

We couldn't run, not even with our agents on our side. As a matter, the suspicion of us having served for them was one of the reasons that we were chosen for testing.

It's funny, really, that even though it tore us apart… it brought us back together, didn't it… brother?"

Private stared at her in shock. He couldn't believe… but he could. He had to. It was…

"Cee…?" He whispered in disbelief.

She nodded, and whispered, "You're alive. It's really you."

"Cee!" He shouted again, and enveloped her in a hug. He couldn't help the tears welling up inside his eyes and started to cry, but tears of joy. He sobbed into her shirt, clinging to her as if for his life.

Corporal's face was also streaked with salty tears as she squeezed him, as if never about to let go, to make sure he was real, and wouldn't just disappear.

"Every day, I was sure that you were dead. Every day, I did everything to find you, because it was my fault you were dead. But you're here. Now. I won't leave you behind again."

As she finally released him, Private looked up to meet her face. And this time, he saw it clearly for the first time. Happy, yes, ecstatic. And beautiful. His sister truly was beautiful.

But there was a resolve, a certain sadness in the hard lines of her face, and an age behind her eyes that no 16-year old should wield.

"We can take them." She spoke, staring into space. "Never swim alone. Their teaching will be their downfall. We can do it… _together_."

"Together." Private echoed, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into.

* * *

"I covered for you in front of Skipper. At the very least, you owe me an explanation." Marlene glares at Kowalski. They are in his office, and Marlene is giving him an earful about what had happened in Skipper's office the previous day.

"I suppose I do, don't I?" He runs his hand down his face. "How much do you know?"

"Only as much as I can guess."

"What do you think?"

"I think I know a clone when I see one." Marlene stares flatly.

"_What_-?" Kowalski stammers, taken aback. This is news to him, and he is still rather skeptical as to Marlene's expertise.

"That's _preposterous_. Cloning isn't logically possible, not to mention morally. I mean, the odds to that are…"

"Astronomical? But not impossible." Marlene says gently. "I had managed to run an analysis on One, before… _I let her go."_

"What!" Kowalski repeats. "Now that's just ridiculous. You were supposed to act like you were on her side, feeding her misinformation."

"And you were supposed to keep Two from getting suspicious. We both know that this is no accident, and I'm telling you this to even the chances. Now you know my secret, and I know yours."

Marlene leans in over the desk. Her dark hair sweeps over her face, making its natural cinnamon shade seem to darken as her hazel eyes spark with a sort of fire.

"I did what I had to to keep us covered. But I want some answers. How much do you know?"

Kowalski looks at her in disbelief. "You… you are a double agent? _You_?" He always thought that she was nothing more than your average lab assistant-turned-shopkeeper when she got demoted.

"I prefer the term 'inside man.'" Marlene gives him another sharp look. "'Double agent' would imply I have another employer."

"Then who are you? For all I know, you're Nigel's spy planted to expose me."

"Bit late for that, don't you think? Besides… I asked first." Marlene smiles. "And I saved your tail feathers in front of Skipper, Penguin."

Kowalski rubs the mark on his arm almost imperceptibly. "How did you know about that?"

Marlene raises the sleeve of her own lab coat in reply. There, upon her spice-colored skin is imprinted an otter in what looks like henna ink, followed by something written in a writing he doesn't recognize, and a train of numbers. "Otter…?"

He recognizes the mark of the otter division, a section stationed mostly in the Middle East that used to be much like the Penguins.

The animal divisions had nothing to do with NIME. While NIME was a government founded institute, the Penguins, Otters, and several other animal subdivisions were independent organizations, as a matter of fact often opposed to NIME actions. A running joke among the operatives had been that they were a giant, international Boy Scouts.

Had been. They had been officially disbanded when they came too close to government secrets.

But several had been dispatched to find out what it was that they had come so close to.

Marlene must have taken him for one of them, but he left the program to join NIME. They discovered him and offered him fame, and fortune in return for his services.

And he gave in. It is still his greatest shame, that he agreed to run experiments on innocent children in return for credit. He always pushes it down, out of his mind. The shame, the guilt, the self-disgust.

But the sight of the tattoo brings it all back.

"Marlene… I'm not a Penguin. Not anymore."

Marlene stands back, jerking her sleeve back down. Her eyes flash with a carefully hidden anger.

"So it's true. They told me you turned, and I didn't believe their words. I believed that you were a good man despite everything. But I was wrong."

For a second, her face shows nothing but regret.

"I thought I found an ally in you. I thought you actually _cared_ for One and Two. Apparently, I was wrong. You are nothing but another egoistic genius who only sees his own future."

She gets up and leaves, slamming the door behind her. But her words remain in the air.

Kowalski knows that he won't forget her words anytime soon, because it's what he thinks of himself.

At the moment, he feels as lost as Private must have felt. All the time.

He is a genius. His thing is numbers, and variables, and elaborate plans. Navigating the delicate waters of ethics is for the people who gave the orders, and for the reporters.

"Just another egoistic genius who only sees his own future." Marlene's words echo in his head. It's true.

For the first time in his life, something can't be solved with _x_ and _y_. And he can't find a way out…

**Hey, I just wanted to let you all know how much I appreciate each and every review, be it positive, negative, or even very negative or very positive and the time you spend on typing it :)**

**If I can't reply to you personally (such as my guest reviewers, Rynn Wolfe, and Alantro), I just want you to know I appreciate your work!**

**And, you know the drill… R&F please!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, everyone! I'm so sorry that it's been this long! I was out of town, without Internet access… :P**

**Anyway, sorry if this is short(ish) but here goes!**

* * *

_"Corporal. Corporal, wake up!" _

_Marlene shook a much younger Corporal awake. _

_"What is it?" The girl regarded her distrustfully. Even having just been awoken, she didn't trust anyone. _

_Had she only known that that distrust was rooted in truth, not amnesia like Marlene had been trying to convince her. _

_"You have to come with me. I can't say anything more here." She quickly grabbed Corporal's hand, but she jerked it out of the grasp. _

_"Why." She said one word, blinking in the bright light that came in through the open door. It was far past lockdown hour (1000 hours), and she was, after all, a not fully awakened twelve-year-old. _

_"Cameras." The woman answered, also in a single word. "Hurry."_

_Corporal tore off her pajama top, pulling her military jacket over her camisole and her cargo pants on over the shorts she wore to bed, following Marlene outside. _

_"Where're we going…?"_

_"My quarters." Marlene answered quickly, glancing around herself as if to check if anyone was coming, before ushering Cee into a tiny room barely large enough to fit a cot and desk. _

_"Soundproofed, and I made sure it isn't bugged." She patted the bed, herself turning on the only light source in the room, what had probably been a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling before it had been covered with what looked rather like red wrapping paper, which bathed the room in a pleasant, red light. _

_"You have to listen, this is probably the only chance I'll have to explain. Im thirty minutes, I am going to take you to wipe your memory. What's going to happen is this. I will handcuff you to the bed, trust me here. The machine will not work correctly, while messing with the settings I will 'accidentally' set you free. You have to run, this will be your only occasion. I'll give you two minutes before I call the guards. You have to make it out. Do you understand." Marlene looked the girl in the eyes. _

_"I- think so." She replied, hating how childish her voice sounded. "Can- can I trust you…?"_

_Marlene didn't look at her as she replied. "Of course."_

* * *

Private woke up suddenly from a dream.

A dream that he had had from his sister's eyes.

Unsure whether or not to wake her, he thought about what he had seen.

Corporal had been cheated as well. Tricked into believing, though it was harder to make her believe.

He considered it for a second. He had been… inside her head. He had thought like her, been her!

He shook her awake. "Cee… Cee, wake up!"

"What is it?" She muttered. Just like in the dream.

Private felt cold chills come down his spine.

"I had a dream, and…"

"You woke me because of a nightmare?" She groaned, placing her pillow over her head. After a while, she got up and turned on the lightbulb.

"Now that you've got me awake… might as well ask. What's up?"

Private told her about this dream. When he began, she interrupted.

"Don't sweat it. You're combining my story with your own memories with… what's his face, the other scientist. Kowalski. But let's hear it."

When he finished his story, she had paled and looked rather disturbed.

"That's- that's uncanny." She whispered, but quickly shook her head.

"Never mind, it's just a dream. Forget it, try to get a little sleep if you can. I'll see you in the morning."

Private couldn't sleep again that night.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this, soldier!" Skipper shouts, shoving a slip of paper toward Kowalski.

"The meaning of what, sir? It's…" he yawns. "Three in the morning."

"This. Read it."

Kowalski takes the paper into his hands, trying to focus as the letters swim before his tired eyes.

"It looks… like a resignation form, sir."

"And read whose it is." Skipper snaps.

"It says…" he squints at the tiny, neat handwriting. "Marlene Samuru."

He drops the slip, running his hand through his already messy blonde hair nervously. "What- Marlene? She quit?"

Skipper nods. "That's not all. She's gone and disappeared on us. Something about a family emergency."

Kowalski furrows his brow, confused. His brain refuses to work at this pagan hour.

"She doesn't have family." He belts out, instantly regretting it as soon as he says it.

"Exactly. So now, our fugitive count is up to three. As of now, I promote you to a field agent. Your first assignment is to track Marlene down and see what she's up to."

Kowalski swallows hard, suddenly realizing the gravity of his dilemma.

"Yes, sir…"

* * *

**Did Marlene tell Cee the truth, or was she bluffing- or double bluffing? **

**And where is she, anyway?**

**Review to let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Everyone, forgive me, please, but this is all only from Kowalski's POV. The Tuxes will show up, soon, promise!**

* * *

When Skipper dismisses Kowalski, he doesn't go back to his quarters like he'd been intending but instead hangs around Skipper's office, careful not to be spotted. The adrenaline coursing through his veins has made it impossible for him to relax.

In what feels like fifteen minutes, his patience pays off as he notices Skipper walk out of his office with a brisk step, inspecting the security cameras on his way out.

Kowalski freezes even though he knows that he is in a blind spot created by the angle of the cameras.

A wry thought crosses his brain. _Sometimes designing the security system pays off after all. _

He holds his breath as Skipper passes his hiding spot with his sight, but nothing happens. Which is to be expected.

As the man continues down the hall quickly, Kowalski shadows him until they reach one of the old store-rooms. Nothing special, just one of the many places where NIME stores failed experiments.

He presses himself against the door when he hears the lock click after Skipper, straining to listen. He hears the murmur of voices, but doesn't catch anything.

He whispers a few choice words under his breath as he strains to catch the individual words. There are two voices, one being Skipper's characteristic drawl and the other a mere whisper, which Kowalski can't discern.

All of a sudden, the pair moves closer to the door and the scientist is able to catch some of what is being said. His breath catches in his chest when he realizes that the second voice is Marlene's.

"Skipper… are you sure?" He hears her say.

"Yes. When I told him you'd gone he agreed to find you without hesitation. He is not to be trusted."

"But when I talked to him, I saw guilt… he can still help us. And he helped Two. There's still hope."

"Let me tell you something years of service have taught me. Every so often, even the worst criminal lets one person go. Because he is sweet, or blonde, or pleads for his life pitifully. It doesn't matter, it can be anything- it's how they live with themselves. Because that person lets them think that they are good people after all."

"You talk as if you've seen it happen."

"I have. Now, it's late and someone is going to begin to notice my absence. You have to go."

A distorted image of reality begins to form around Kowalski. He had told Skipper that he would go after Marlene to appease his trust but hasn't calculated for the fact that he was a double agent.

Skipper? Skipper a double agent! And yet, Marlene, and even he himself still bears the Penguin's crest.

"Be careful." Kowalski hears the sound of a quick kiss and is surprised by the sharp, unexpected pang of jealousy he feels toward Skipper at that event.

His head begins to spin with the many layers of truth as sleep deprivation rears its head in full force, but he realizes that Skipper will be coming out in a matter of seconds.

Kowalski slips away silently but hurriedly, managing not to be seen by anyone until he reaches his own dormitory, and releases a breath he hasn't known he was holding.

His well-developed (though groggy) mind is already whirring through the options.

Skipper… is a double agent? Was a double agent? No, is. And is a Penguin? No. Maybe.

But Skipper had ordered him to retrieve One and Two, and Marlene.

But he hadn't succeeded, had he? And neither had Skipper's best men. Did he actually send a Retrieval team?

But then, who kidnapped Private and Corporal?

And why, why did Skipper order experiment Memory Alpha in the first place?

Hadn't he said Nigel had ordered it?

Nigel… Kowalski thinks to place the name with a face. Does Skipper work for a Nigel? Yes, he is the team's link to the HQ in England. But who does Skipper really work for? The Penguins? Or NIME? Or… both?

Suddenly, he makes up his mind. He had to find his way into Skipper's 'Top Classified' file cabinet. Only then can he get some answers to all the questions ricocheting across his brain like bullets.

Knowing Skipper, it will be under lock and key, and he would still be up working. His best bet was around one the next morning, when Skipper would most likely be asleep for three hours or so, because by four he would be up for early-morning training.

Perhaps his best bet would be four-thirty, when Skipper will be out running?

Yes, Kowalski decides. 0430 hours sharp.

But his eyes are already beginning to shut after the adrenaline from the ordeal begins to wear off, so he manages to set his phone to vibrate him awake at four-fifteen and sets back to get at least a single hour of sleep.

Some annoying voice at the back of his head insists that having a single hour of sleep will only make him feel worse overall than no sleep at all, but in his exhaustion he ignores it.

* * *

When Kowalski finally wakes, it is five o'clock and his alarm has been going off for 45 minutes.

Biting his lip, he attempts to turn it off but the smartphone is protected by an algorithm which changes every day that he had installed to make sure that he was fully awake when he turned it off.

"The last digits of the day and month as a two-digit number, multiply by the year," he whispers as he runs calculations in his head. He doesn't have time for this!

"Divide by seven days in a week to the fifth decimal, and add 365."

The irritating alarm finally shuts off when he enters the final code, 519.14286

He finally makes it out to Skipper's office around 5:15, looking around carefully to see if Skipper was still out.

"Hey, Marty." He greets a passing interned scientist, barely 25 and the youngest worker on the location. His hair is shoulder-length and black but has a white zebra pattern bleached into it, which contrasts against his mahogany skin.

Marty jumps a bit, surprised to have seen anyone else up. It is his turn to supervise the experimental generator that Kowalski had been designing and so had a reason to be up at this hour.

"Hey, Mr. Kowalski. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Have you seen Skipper?" Kowalski asks, then improvises. "I have something important to ask him."

"No, I haven't. I think he's still out, but he should be back around seven or eight. Said he had something important to do or something. I suggest you go back to bed, sir, it's-" he checks his watch. "Five-twenty-three. I'm on watch for another half hour, I'll tell whoever's next to tell him you were looking for him."

Kowalski freezes. If Marty mentions him…

He lets out a small, fake laugh. "No, that's fine. I'll find him myself. Thanks, Marty."

Suddenly, an idea strikes him. "Hey," he adds quickly. "I'm up next anyway. Why don't you head off a little early, have some sleep. You look tired, I can take over."

Marty grins. "Really? Thanks, Mr. Kowalski."

Kowalski returns the smile. "Anytime."

As soon as Marty is out of sight, he opens up his smartphone and hacks into the NIME mainframe, making him the next person due for watch.

He glances at the hour. 5:30. He doesn't have much time, and can't waste any more of it.

The scientist looks around carefully before looping the picture on the cameras from his phone, showing him pacing back and forth in front of the generator compartment (coincidentally next to Skipper's office) and makes sure that the transition is smooth, without a visible break between loops, before typing in Skipper's personal PIN code to open the door to his office.

For the first time, Kowalski is thankful for the fact that Skipper is about as technology-friendly as his own grandmother, and that he had had to set up the security system in his office.

He quickly makes his way toward the back, disabling the alarm on his way with an override code.

In the back, the file cabinet containing Skipper's personal files stands, locked with a fingerprint analyzer and voice recognition, but those take him no more than a minute to temporarily reprogram into accepting any pattern.

He tries to pull it open but fails, and when he looks for a cause he notices a good, old-fashioned key lock.

Skipper and his mistrust for technology and Kowalski's competency had struck once again.

So what if the fire alarm had exploded (twice)? He had fixed it in the end.

As much as the genius hates to admit it, the crude lock proves to be more of a challenge to him than any of his complicated electronic protection.

After running an impromptu analysis on the lock, Kowalski realizes that he will have to pick the lock, but with what?

As a child, he had read some criminal books and in them the crook had always opened the locks with hairpins. But he doesn't wear hairpins, much less Skipper!

Marlene would, maybe. But there was little chance she had lost one in Skipper's office.

He thought quickly, inventing a replacement. A paper clip? Maybe. Rico would definitely have an entire lock-picking tool set, but he is…

_Where is Rico, anyway? _

_Focus, Kowalski_, he scolds himself. A paper clip.

He quickly makes his way to Skipper's desk and fishes the desired accessory from the desktop, fumbling it in his hurry. He then makes his way back to the file cabinet and studies the tool he is going to use.

_What would Rico do?_ He asks himself, studying the thing. A dim memory alights in his mind, having seen a lock pick in a movie a long time ago.

_Hah. Movies._ He hasn't had the time for seeing movies since he had been promoted to First Lieutenant.

Thinking quickly, he bends the wire ninety degrees to form an L-shape, then inserts it into the lock, jiggling it frantically. It takes several tries (and several pricked fingers) but he finally manages to get it open.

_Gotcha_.

Moving quickly, he leafs through the folders until his fingers meet a thick, yellowed one labeled 'TUX' and with 'CLASSIFIED/TOP SECRET' stamped across the top in red ink. Classic Skipper, he thinks before opening the file carefully. He notices several separate paper-clipped piles, each with a name and a photo.

He picks up the first one, labeled 'Special Agent Nigel Tux.' On the front is visible an old, black-and-white photo of a man with dark, slicked-back hair, a strong, focused gaze, and a serious expression wearing a suit and tie.

Kowalski flips through the pages and finds many more ID photos, some newer and some older. But what really catches his eye is one that is at the very back of the pile, so strongly creased from being opened and closed so many times it had almost torn. It shows Nigel next to a very young Skipper, laughing about something off-screen. Skipper looks years younger and many times happier, lacking the grim, set expression that Kowalski has come to know in his boss and old friend. It is also the only photo in which Nigel isn't frowning or impassive.

He turns it over and looks for a date and almost drops it in shock. He would have been twelve or thirteen when this was taken. Skipper would have been a new recruit, perhaps a private or private first-class. For the first time, it strikes him how much younger he is than both Rico and Skipper. He looks for something more, but there is nothing except for a scribed note in messy handwriting on the back.

Kowalski squints at it, straining to decipher the letters.

"_For Skipper. Never forget who you are."_ Under that, a newer date is scribbled and a rough sketch of a penguin's head. For most people, the drawing would mean nothing, but Kowalski knows what it represents. Folding it back carefully, he places it back into the folder and looks at the other faces.

On top of one is a ten-year-old Private, grinning next to a twelve-year-old Corporal. Kowalski recognizes this picture- it had been taken a few weeks before the kidnapping.

Corporal is giving Private "bunny ears" and he is in the middle of smacking her away playfully. They ate both in school uniforms, and Private has a marker streak on his cheek indicating he'd been drawing.

The file is labeled 'Caroline and Jackson Tux, experiments Memory One and Memory Two'

Jackson. He traces the boy's face on the photo carefully. He hadn't known the boy's name was Jackson. Underneath is a brief physical description of each and a short summary of his study, both machine-typed.

The next pages are filled with Skipper's personal notes. Dates, wipes, reactions… and Kowalski's reactions, as well. He notices several pages filled with handwriting diametrically different from Skipper's illegible scrawl.

It's filled with the same neat, tiny "small caps" that he recognizes from the resignation form. It is Marlene's handwriting, pages of it simply filled with a deep, psychological analysis of Corporal, her reactions, then later on also Private. All through it, he can find abbreviated notes in the margins about how he had been reacting to this entire situation.

Nearing the end, he begins to feel watched as he meets with a note that says:

_"JT- release. Accident? Skp says yes. **Kw=penguin? Says no. ?Will continue search."_

His hand suddenly freezes as a hard voice comes from behind him

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

* * *

**Thanks for reading! **

**Ooh, cliff hanger. Who is behind Kowalski? And why was Marlene stalking him?**

**And what is Skipper's problem, anyway?**

**R&R!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, peeps :D It's been FOREVER, I know. I'm sorry, I had some things going on that I'd rather not mention here, but here I am, with a long-awaited mass update! :D**

* * *

Where IS Rico, anyway…? Kowalski had most likely imagined him on some obscure official _misión_. Nothing could be further from the truth if it tried.

_So an otter and a living arsenal walk into a bar…_

_"Marlena. ¿Tu completadas el plan?"_

_"Sí."_ Marlene nods, giving him a discerning look. "Why, have you finished your part?"

"I have found a place to keep _los niños_ where we said, yes. But the problem will be with finding _her_, _¿comprendo?"_

Marlene nods her head again.  
"One is an intelligent child; she can take care of herself. But we need to find Tux. If we manage to track her down…"

_"Todos innecesarios._ You can find anything in the New York underground if you know where to look."

"Too risky. I need to have her location before tonight. Skipper woke Kowalski up at three. Knowing him, he hung around and listened to our conversation. He will probably stay awake trying to figure us out all night. That means we have all of today to track her down, before THEY will be on our tail."

"_¿Como son _'they'?"

"Kowalski and his men. And I still don't know which side he is working for."

_"¡Ay, carramba!_ He is not an _amigo_ to us, you know that."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Marlene trails off for a second, and then continues:  
"But the fact still stands. We need her information by tonight."

"Give me four hours. _Quattro_. I will find her."

Marlene gives him another long, surveying look.  
"…All right." She says finally. "I will trust you."

_"Muy bien."_

__"Private."

Private shut his eyes tightly against the voice.  
"S'not morning yet, Kowalski…" he murmured, swatting in the general direction of the voice.

_"Private."_

"Tell Skipper that I'm ill?"

"PRIVATE! _Wake up_, Nancy!" Something wet poured over his head.

Gasping and spluttering, Private sat bolt upright.  
"Wh-what?" His vision cleared, and he could make out the vague figure of an amused Corporal from under his wet bangs.

"What… what was that for?"

"It was that or slap you awake." He could hear the smirk in her voice.  
"This way was infinitely more amusing."

Private rubbed his eyes and whipped the fringe from his face.  
"Not funny." He pouted.

"No, you're right. My bad. That was flippin' _hilarious_."

"Hmmph."

"Whatever. Anyway, now that you're up, we can't spend our day here. We can sleep here, yes, but during the day it should be empty so that nobody begins to notice."

"Cee…? Is that even possible?"

"Theoretically, no. But better safe than sorry. Up and at 'em, Nancy."  
She tossed the rolled-up uniform from yesterday at him.

"But… it's midnight."

"Six in the morning, sunshine."

"Sort of the same thing." He murmured rebelliously, pulling the clothes on.

When they were finally out the door and walking somewhere at a casual pace, Private asked:  
"Where are we going then?"

"Avoiding curious eyes." She replied simply.  
"You gotta know, I have enemies. And my enemies are your enemies from now on."

"That's not fair… I don't want enemies. I have enough of them as is."

"Well, allow me to wake you up. Going through life, you make enemies and allies. And you have to make sure that your allies don't sell you out for a wad of green, if you know what I mean."

"But-but not all people are like that. _I'm_ not like that. _You're_ not like that."

Cee laughed bitterly. "Aren't I? You have a lot to learn about life. Lesson number one…"  
She held up a leather wallet.  
"This was in the pants you were wearing. Now it's not. Lesson one is to watch your back. Lesson two, don't trust anyone. Lesson three, if you trust someone and get sold out, don't come crying to me."

"But…" Tears sprang to Private's eyes. "That's such a grim view on life."

"Boo. It's called being realistic." Private could feel his gaze on her, and he wondered what she was thinking right now.

"…Cee?"

"Yeah." Her voice was sort of irritable, but not very.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Walking around. I can show you some of the city if you like."

"Yes please!" Private cheered, rather like a child.

"Fine." Cee couldn't help but crack a smile. "Let's take the Tube. It'll be faster."

"But… isn't the Tube in London?" Private pointed out.

"…I use the expression to mean _any_ sub." She replied flatly, then added: "And by 'sub' I don't mean submarine."

"…Right." Private wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, so he decided to pretend that that comment hadn't fallen.

"Now. We need to stay in crowded places during the day, preferably places where people don't snap a lot of photos."

"Like the Tube?"

"You're learning fast. Who takes photos of the subway?"

"…And security cameras?"

Cee bit her lip. "You are bright. Here's what I have to say. Although face-recognition software is an incredibly developed technology… it isn't quite what it could be, especially if we make sure that the CCTV only catches the backs of our heads."  
Private didn't find it necessary to mention that Kowalski had taught him the one about the security tapes.

"Also… we should run down to Goodwill and secure you something besides that uniform."

"How're you going to pay for all that?"

Cee smirked and opened the wallet, revealing several hundred-dollar bills. She then flipped it closed with a furtive glance around.

"B-but you… how did you…"

"This belonged to an ex-NIME agent-gone-vaudeville_. Alex, the King of New York_, as the poster read."

"How did you-? And you didn't-? But what about-?"

"Let's just say that the show gained an extra the day before they went on tour to Africa."

"You followed them to _Africa_?!"

"Nah. Rather stay in the Big Apple any day. You know what, let's splurge. I'll take you to Wal-Mart instead and get you some new stuff."

"Won't we look conspicuous?"

"Are you joking? In Wal-Mart? In New York City? Of course we'll be conspicuous, but will anyone care?"

"…Did I say something daft?"

"Yes."  
They walked in silence for a while, and in that time, the fact finally sunk in to Private. He was free. He was out of NIME.  
He was also on the lam. From one of the most powerful government institutes of the United States.  
And his head was still empty of most memories before NIME. Which meant that they still had a hold on him.  
But he was OUT OF THERE!

"Cee…?" He asked suddenly.

"Mm?"

"Have you ever stopped to think?"

"About what."

"How _lucky_ we are."

"Call _this_ lucky? Wouldn't like to see your definition of 'un.'"  
The thick layer of sarcasm in her voice was obvious enough even for Private to understand.

"But, I mean… we had these experiences, that normal people don't have. And now, we are out here, and we have the chance to do something different."

"Different?" Corporal's seemingly disinterested voice hid an undertone of curiosity.

"I mean, you said that…" he trailed off, forming an awkward shape with his hands, at a loss for words. "We're not…"

"Not your usual meddling kids, are we?" She teased. In a quieter tone, she added,  
"We're kids who've _been_ meddled with."

Private fell silent with a nod.

"Well. No matter." Corporal said with a forced cheer in her voice. "Look, we're here."

* * *

**Review? :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**All right :) I'll have some more up soon, but this is the last one of this story for now. MORE TO COME! ^.~**

* * *

Kowalski's blood turns to ice as he turns around to face the source of the voice.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he slowly opens them to see the face of none other than the spy from the photo, aiming a gun at his face. Sure, he has gotten older. His hair is now a salt-and-pepper shade of silver, and his face is now adorned by a thick scar over his right eye, but it is still, unmistakably, Special Agent Nigel Tux.

The scientist tries to say something intelligent, but his brain refuses to function in the presence of a weapon aimed toward him. Instead, he slowly raises his shaking hands and puts them behind his head.  
"I… I… I just… I mean, you…"

"Stand down, soldier. State your name and intention." Nigel secures the pistol and hides it in his belt.  
"I'm willing to listen to your motives before I shoot you."

Kowalski notices his eyes flicker to his right arm for no apparent reason. It is covered by the long sleeve of his shirt.  
Kowalski quickly wonders whether or not to introduce himself as a Penguin. His mind quickly runs calculations probability and chance.  
If he really were still a Penguin (and he isn't, is he?) he would probably not introduce himself in this way normally.  
But he had just read Nigel's file.  
But Nigel doesn't know that. Does he?

"First Lieutenant Jan Kowalski , 8-6-0-niner-bravo-alpha-mega-niner, reporting, sir!" He straightens up and salutes smartly, hoping that this might win him enough time to think of a good alibi.

"Very nice, thank you, lieutenant." The man nods politely. "And your intentions?"

"Agent Tux, sir, I was just…" Kowalski thinks frantically.

"I would advise that you tell me the truth, Lieutenant Kowalski, or I will first shoot you and then turn you in. I'm sure that your skipper would be more than glad to know that someone was digging through his files."  
His voice never loses its even tone. He might as well have been asking Kowalski to pass the tea and biscuits.

"I…" Kowalski swallows hard. How can he say this? Nothing. No words come. Not a single sound.

He notices Nigel reach up with his left hand to press two fingers to his right arm. A seemingly innocuous gesture, yet Kowalski knows it very well. It was the signal of the animal divisions before they were officially disbanded. Before he has time to think it through, Kowalski mirrors him.  
_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Nigel nods, and Kowalski notices something soften in the hard lines of his face.  
"Not here." He gathers up the papers that Kowalski has dropped with a single, swift move, and puts them back into the file cabinet, locking it to make all as was before.

"Follow me." Nigel motions with his head, walking out of the room, Kowalski in tow. They descend into rooms inaccessible even to Kowalski on a daily basis.  
The scientist begins to count the floors. That's five-minus, six-minus, seven-minus. He himself only has access down to eight, so it is with some surprise that he sees Nigel continue downwards.  
Ten-minus. Eleven-minus. Twelve- minus.

Kowalski's heart is beating like a hammer at this point. He had only been on level twelve-minus once before. It's filled with the failed experiments, those gone wrong. Not people, no. If something goes wrong enough to qualify a human subject for level twelve… there could be no chance that the subject would survive long enough for Kowalski to even think 'level twelve-minus.'

Nigel, on the other hand, doesn't look like stopping. He turns around toward a seemingly blank wall and presses his palm against it. Immediately, a green light runs down his palm and a hidden hatch springs open, revealing another staircase leading into the bowels of the city.  
Level thirteen-minus. Kowalski had always thought it to be a legend- and yet, there they are.

Nigel leads him through the narrow, dark corridors (so very different from the clinically-lit upper floors) and into a small office.  
Everything is rather generic, but there is a bulletin board with what Kowalski discerns to be photos of past disguises on one wall, and the British flag stands on the desk proudly.

"Sit." Nigel offers him a chair, himself taking a seat behind the desk.  
"Now, Lieutenant Kowalski. Please explain to me what you were doing in your commanding officer's office, pardon the pun, at a ridiculous hour of the morning, during his absence?"

"…I…" Kowalski sighs, resigned to telling the truth. "Have you heard of experiments Memory One and Memory Two?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact- I have. Which doesn't explain why you were looking at my file. How could you have known I was being sent here? I only found out ten minutes before the flight from the LIME in London."

"I… I didn't, sir."

"Is it a coincidence, then, that you were looking through a file with my surname clearly printed on it?"

"Sir… I was looking for experiments Memory One and Two. They share your surname, as you well know."

For the first time that day, Nigel doesn't look unruffled. Quite the opposite. The pencil that he had picked up and began to spin snapped in half with a resounding _CRACK_.  
"Say that again."

"W-well, sir, Experiments Memory One and Two…"

"Say that AGAIN! If you are lying, I will kill you without hesitation." Nigel leans forward with a dangerous glint in his eye.  
"What are their names."

"C-Caroline and Jackson Tux, sir."  
Kowalski stares at Nigel uncomprehendingly. He had assumed that Nigel himself had commissioned…

Nigel shouts a word that Kowalski will later edit out of his memory of this happening.  
"Skipper, the blasted idiot! When I told him to choose two test subjects…" he murmurs something incomprehensible.  
"What about their mother. Is she alive."

"I- I don't…"

"IS SHE ALIVE?!"

"I don't know, sir, Skipper…"

"I don't care what Skipper did or didn't do! I want this experiment terminated immediately."

"Agent Nigel, sir…"

_"IMMEDIATELY!"_

"…'S a little late for that." A drawl comes from the door. Kowalski freezes, not daring to turn around. It can only be Skipper.  
"Nigel, old man, I always knew that you'd betray us again."

"You broke up my family." Nigel spits.

"Now we're even, aren't we? And Kowalski, you _idiot_. You really think I don't have someone I _trust_ on top of technology?"

"I…" Kowalski swallows hard. He didn't mean to get caught like this.

"I knew you were conspiring with that goody-goody Marlene all along. Now let me tell you what's gonna happen. I sent Retrieval after One and Two. They will comb the entire city. No discreet searches like you were pretending to conduct."

"I was conducting searches…" Kowalski defends himself weakly.

He hears the click of a gun being cocked. "Not another word out of you, traitor!" Skipper barks at the scientist. "You were my right-hand man!"

"And you were mine." Nigel says calmly. Kowalski notices him reaching toward his belt with the pistol. Unfortunately, so does Skipper.

"Nice try, Special Agent Tux. I know all your tricks. Try something, and I'll shoot him." Nigel freezes, and his arms drop to his side.

"Skipper, I trusted you."

"I know. Now, both of you. Question number one: what do you _think_ happened to Manfredi and Johnson? And question two: _who_ do you think disappears next?"

"Us, I would assume." Nigel is still hidden behind his impassive mask. With a sudden move, he snaps his fingers, and the desk shoots forward to pin Skipper to the wall. His gun clatters to the floor.

"Not all my tricks, Skipper. Now, here is what I can tell you. This desk is reinforced titanium and pinned to the wall by an electromagnet so strong, it would crush you like a sheet of paper had I not so profiled the desk as to give you room to breathe. You will let my sister's children go, or I will shoot you with your own gun. And you will then disappear. Or die, whichever you prefer. Is that clear?"

Nigel is met with condescending, insane laughter from Skipper.  
"You can kill me, but in under an hour, my men will have searched all of New York and brought both children back. Then, they will kill you both, and Marlene and Rico to boot. Good luck, Special Agent Tux. And thank _you_, Kowalski, for making this possible."

* * *

**What do you think...?**


End file.
